Unknown
by Realistic Fate
Summary: Sequel to "Secretive". For sixteen-year-old Emalline Amoletas, life seemed like it was looking up. But, while she and a friend are staying with her father over the break, an old enemy may just reviel her new plan... Yay!
1. Chapter 1, In Which We Begin

Winter in Northern Ireland is barely ever bearable, but the frigid cold of St. Martha's Academy for girls was even colder, if that was possible. The frozen mounds of snow that covered ever hill in the area was so hard and icy that even the heaviest teacher could walk across them without falling through.

Yet every girl, from first form through seventh waited all year for the winter. Most thought that the frost-covered hills were beautiful, even magical, and it was more than one first-former who was positive of their inhabitation of "snow-elves".

On her first year (though she was in the sixth form), Emalline Amoletas was the only girl not looking forward to the winter break. In fact, in her mind, it couldn't have passed fast enough. For one thing, she loved the school, loved it's hallowed halls of learning (could a genius learn?). But the activities planned, without her knowledge, for her holiday. Her own idea of her holiday involved going back to Georgia to visit her family. The later plans, though they did include visiting family, that family wasn't exactly the one Ema had had in mind. The plans didn't even involve leaving the country.

So, as the final bell rang through the old building, Ema followed the screaming crowd of children, not really looking where she was going. She craned her neck, looking around for Diane. She had given up and was just making her way back to her dorm, when someone grabbed her from behind. Ema screamed.

Diane chuckled, and let go of Ema's shoulders. "Geez, Ema! No need to freak out!" Ema turned around to face her friend, fuming.

"Come on!" Diane laughed. "It's winter holidays! We get to go home!" Her face was alight with the prospect of edible food.

Ema sighed, fidgeting with her fringe. "You mean, you get to go home, and I get to go the furthest place from home. You know exactly where I'm going."

It was Diane's turn to act exasperated now. "Ema, honestly, your dad can't be that bad." Yeah, right, Ema thought. You obviously don't know my father. Though, when she thought about it, neither did she.

"Honestly, you have no idea," Ema muttered, her voice thick with her trademark sarcasm. She brushed her fringe back in front of her eyes.

Ema hated her eyes. At the best of times, their colour was her father's own unnaturally bright shade of blue, luminescent and glowing. And blue was a colour she had grown to despise. Though, when she was angry, they could change to a horrible blood red, like she was some kind of evil vampire. Any other mood changed them any colour in between. They hadn't always been like this, and she usually hid them with a pair of dark sunglasses, but today she had opted instead for a pair of green-coloured contact lenses. May as well that she be able to see for the exams, she reasoned.

Diane had fallen silent, a miracle for her. She must have picked up on her friend's mood, and had decided to leave Ema alone to her thoughts…..

Until two weeks ago, Ema hadn't even known that it was arranged for her to visit her "father" over the break, though it had been planned for months. She had gone down to breakfast one morning to find an envelope on her plate. As it turned out, Artemis had spoken to her family and convinced them to let their adopted daughter stay at the Manor for Christmas. Ema didn't know what about this annoyed her more; the fact that Fowl had spoken to her family (and that they now knew that she had lied to them about "sight-seeing" during the summer in Ireland), or that she was now expected to spend two weeks of solid boredom much with some batty genius and his shopaholic wife.

Diane, not one for being quiet long, suddenly stopped in her tracks. She pulled her friend around to face her, that manic light that usually lit up in her eyes when she had a completely insane idea very much present.

"I have an idea! A total moment of geniosity!" She paused dramatically. Ema raised her right eyebrow, a habit she exhibited when she was both slightly nervous and confused. "Well, if you think that I'm going to let you rot in a rich, comfortable mansion for two weeks while I get to baby-sit my old grandma, then you're even crazier than I thought." She stood with her strong, tanned hands on her hips, smiling as triumphantly as if she had just won some great battle.

Ema just stared at the girl, like she had just grown a tail and two antlers. Was she serious? Did she know just _who_ Ema was talking about when she mentioned her father? Probably not.

But Diane, hurried as ever, didn't wait for Ema to reply, just grabbed her hand and dragged her off towards the main hall. She was thrilled that she would be staying in an actual Manor.

While beginning the worst time of her life.


	2. Chapter 2, In Which Ema Screams

Diane and Ema were lead to their rooms by the same perky blond woman, Artemis's wife, Melanie, Ema had met on her last visit. Although, "met" might be a bit of an over-statement; She had led Ema through a couple of hallways, glaring at her like the plague, saying little. It was far different this time. She couldn't seem to shut up, and the fact that she and Diane were both natural motor-mouths wasn't much helping Ema's pounding headache. After three hours on a stifling hot train, Ema was ready to pass out. (What kind of school still put students on TRAINS, anyway?)

As soon as Ema was alone in her room, she practically ran to the adjoined bathroom to take a long shower. The frigid water felt good on her aching head.

Ema turned off the water, dried herself off and changed into her clothes. She wore a dark green turtleneck sweater and a pare of pale gray jeans. Needless to say, Ema wasn't all that concerned about fashion. She tied her long auburn hair into a ponytail and walked back to her room.

The first thing she saw was her friend sprawled across Ema's bed, reading a book. To most, there would be nothing wrong with this picture; But Ema knew Diane. She hated reading. But even that wasn't enough to stop Ema's heart the way it did.

It was the book that Diane was reading. It was Ema's journal. It was a thick, leather-bound book with a ribbon bookmark attached. It had three sections; The first was a regular journal. The second, writing notebook filled with poems and short stories. But the third was filled with the same poems, written in Gnommish. Ema hated to think of what would happen if someone was to read that section.

But Ema need not have worried; Diane was reading the journal. "I knew you liked him," she said when she saw her friend. She emphasized the word.

Ema's face flushed, partly from humiliation, partly from relief. "Liked who?" She mumbled, attempting to play stupid, to no avail. Stupid wasn't easy for a genius to play at.

Diane rolled her eyes, a habit learned from Ema. "Simon," She said in a mocking voice.

Ema shook her head and grabbed the book from Diane's manicured fingers. "No I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Shut up."

"Never."

Ema sighed. There was no point arguing with her. Diane had a comeback for everything, even if said comeback didn't always make sense. So Ema did the next best thing; she rolled her eyes, willed her face to lose it's rosy hue, and turned around to stuff the journal into the back of her bag. Diane, knowing that she had one yet another argument, grinned broadly at Ema's back, then went back to channel-surfing on the flat-screen T.V. on the wall. For her, this was like staying in a hotel.

Ema distracted herself by beginning to unpack, ignoring everything except where her hands were putting her clothes (mainly so she could find them later). If she tried, she could even manage to tune out Diane cranking the volume up on Much Music.

After her list of mindless tasks was finished, and Diane had gotten bored with screaming out lyrics to songs Ema had never heard, the two decided to look around the manor. Ema was dead set on learning about the architecture, and Diane just liked looking at the art. Somehow, though, they managed to find themselves on an outdoor basketball court, watching two young guys shooting hoops. Diane looked like she was going to faint.

The two were nearly identical, if one looked a little more athletic. One of them walked over to the two girls.

"Yes?" he said, grinning in a way that returned the bright manic light to Diane's eyes. "Can we help you?"

The other one, the more normal-looking one (in Ema's opinion), loped over. "Hey, you're Emalline, right?" He laughed. So far, they seemed like pretty easy-going guys. Ema found that reassuring. "Arty's kid, right?"

"It's Ema, actually, but otherwise right. You are you?"

The first one answered, his words accompanied by a sweeping bow. "Beckett and Miles Fowl, at your service."

Ema nodded. Artemis's brothers. They would be, what? Twenty-two now, if Ema was right. Which, she almost always was.

Diane decided that it was time for her to take the spotlight. She pointed towards the basketball in Miles's hands. "Mind if I join you? I'm Diane, by the way."

Beckett's hand shot out to shake, but instead of taking it, Diane grabbed the ball from his brother and dribbled toward the hoop. The two boys ran after her, and Ema chose a spot to sit on the sidelines and read. She was never much of an athletic person.

********

By the time dinner rolled around, Diane had passed out on her bed, snoring loudly. Ema didn't have the heart to wake her up, so she walked down to dinner alone. She wasn't looking forward to it. In fact, she probably would have in her room if she hadn't been so hungry.

It was easy to find the dining room; just follow the smells that made her stomach rumble loud enough to give a reading on the Richter scale.

"Ema!" Melanie cried, her high, perky voice scraping across Ema's, and everyone within ten miles, eardrums. Ema could have sworn she felt hoards of brain cells dying horrible deaths.

The large room was warmed and well lit by the crystal chandelier and the crackling fireplace. The long mahogany-wood dining table could have sat two dozen, but six chairs were carefully positioned around it. Only two of the were occupied, and Ema immediately wished for Diane's, or even Miles and Beckett's, presence.

Artemis looked up from his empty plate to his daughter's face, giving her a weak smile. Ema couldn't see much change in his appearance from the last time she had seen him, besides a few more gray hairs, and the fact he looked even more sad and tired. "Hello, Emalline. I suppose that I haven't really welcomed you yet." His smile turned to a grimace. " But I suppose Melanie has taken care of that." Ema suppressed the inner urge to roll her eyes. Welcomed, sure. The woman hates me, she though, and is just putting on this show because she fancies herself an actress.

"Please take a seat." Artemis motioned to the chair beside himself, but Ema opted instead for the chair farthest away from either of them.

Dinner was a quiet and awkward affair for all parties, broken only occasionally by questions from Artemis (how was school, how were her grades, est.) and Melanie (had she bought any cute shoes lately, how was the shopping in America, est.). But Ema didn't mind awkward; if she had to put up with them for two weeks, then they would suffer right along with her.

Ema left as fast as she could manage while still being polite; she didn't stay for desert, though in all honesty she had never really had much of a sweet tooth.

She stalked into her room, glaring murderously. Diane sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, woken by the bang. "I hate you so much right now," Ema said. Diane cocked her head; her hair stood straight up on her head. Ema needed extreme willpower to keep from laughing like an idiot.

"Did I miss supper?" Diane asked, yawning, and Ema lost it; she just laughed. She fell on her bed, still snorting with laughter, her friend now staring at her with a slightly alarmed expression on her face, which only made Ema laugh more; it was the same expression she had so often used on Diane.

Diane stood up, looked at her friend still rolling with her laughter, and yawned again, walking towards the bathroom. "I'll be back. And if you're going to another meal, don't neglect to bring me." She closed the door.

Ema lounged on the bed, reading through a worn paperback copy of her favourite book, The War of the Worlds. It was ancient, the pages worn so smooth by the years of thumbing, they were nearly transparent. She found her page and settled in to read.

But after a while, when Diane still hadn't returned, Ema decided to check on her. Maybe she was sick. She knocked on the door, and called, "Are you coming?" No reply.

She knocked again, growing worried. Diane didn't just ignore people. Ever. Ema twisted the knob and opened the door.

And, there on the floor at her feet, Diane lay sprawled on the hard tiles, eyes closed, mouth gaping.

Ema screamed.


	3. Not a Chapter, Just a Note

Dear Fans and Friends,

Due to many reasons (I have awful writer's block, I lost the notebook in which this was written, exams are next week, my cousins and aunt are coming to stay with me the whole summer, I'm starting a writing class soon, etcetera, etcetera...) the next chapter of this story will not be written for a while, a fact that is bugging the heck out of me. I WILL, however, be continuing this. OF COURSE! I've worked waa-aa-aay too long at this to give up now! I promise that, as soon as exams are over, and I'm settled in my writing class, I **WILL** **UPDATE!!!!! **Haha.

Neurotically Yours,

Realistic Fate (Lynn)


	4. Chapter 3, In Which Holly is Depressed

Holly felt the stares burning through her skull as she walked down the hall. The heated whispers that had become daily company to the unfortunate elf hung in the air like poisoned gas;_"-broke the poor commander's heart-""-cheated on him, the ungrateful bit-""-I would never have done such a thing to him-"_

Holly ignored them, wondering what exactly they were paid for, since they seemed to have nothing more to do, day after day, than make her feel miserable.

Months had passed; It hadn't changed. The divorce had made everything so final, and everyone had found out. It was obvious, once the two had stopped talking to each other, and people had wondered. It wasn't long before they started talking.

She entered her office, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, shutting her eyes. She wondered why this bothered her so much. She had never before cared what people said about her, and they had always had something to say. She guessed the difference had something to do with the fact that someone had always had something good to say. Not now.

There were probably only three people left who weren't whispering about her behind her back; One had locked himself almost permanently in his control booth, and the other two lived too far away (A couple thousand miles above) to know anything about her life.

After yanking her short hair roughly into a ponytail with an elastic she had found on her desk, she set about doing what had become her habit at work in the past few months; turning on her computer and pretending she had work to do. The truth was that she did, but she just didn't have any desire to do anything about it. Unsigned documents piled up around her, each threatening to topple and crush her.

Honestly, she almost wished that they would.

……..

Ema screamed. Her mind had simply shut down while it tried to comprehend the situation in front of her, and she screamed.

Ema had always figured that she'd be good in a crisis, calm an commanding. But apparently not.

As the information fed from her eyes reached her brain, she started to understand; Diane lay sprawled across the bathroom tiles, her skin white as a sheet, her eyes closed, perspiration shining on her face as her body convulsed.

Ema reached into her back pocket as rational thought became once again possible for her, pulling out her cell phone, cursing technology as she read the flashing message on the small screen that declared that she was outside her service area. She threw the accursed machine aside, grabbing her friend's out of her pocket. She was relieved to feel a pulse as her hand brushed Diane's.

Calling the emergency number, waiting to be connected, she placed a thin finger against her friend's neck. The magic needed a slight push to leave it's owner's body, but she thrust it forcefully into Diane, watching the blue sparks dancing across her skin with distaste. She hated her magic.

She hung up the phone once telling the operator where they were. Running as fast as her short legs would take her, she screamed for help from the doorway of their room. Rushing back to her friend, checking for any obvious sign of injury; Had she hurt herself playing basketball, but been too proud to admit that something was wrong? No, she thought, Diane was never ashamed of an injury. She constantly bragged about the fractures, breaks, bruises and sprains she had received in various sports, considering them "battle scars".

Remembering her simple first aid, she covered the shuddering Irish girl with a quilt. She then sat on the closed toilet, and stared blankly at the Diane's ashen face, feeling her own drain of colour.

Hours could have passed, or it could have been days. People rushed around Ema, gently lifting Diane to a gurney, deciding that the girl shouldn't be moved far, and placing her on her bed. Machines were wheeled into he room, life support set up. Someone placed a blanket over Ema's shoulders, but she didn't see their face. Time had sped up, but it had slowed down, too.

After using her magic for the first time in months, she felt drained, empty. Her stomach growled. Ema could ignore everything from evil siblings to toddlers playing the violin, but she couldn't ignore her own body, so she dragged herself out of the bathroom, still wrapped in the blanket, and through her dark room. She was glad that she couldn't see Diane, but she could hear her ragged breathing, the whirring, clicking, beeping of the machines. She wandered around through the enormous mansion, trying in vain to find the kitchen. Finally, she found the kitchen (Which was larger then the entire main floor of her own home), but, to her dismay, it was not empty.

"Hello, Ema," Artemis said. He sat at the table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him. Ema stood frozen in the door. In her hunger and desire to find food, she hadn't really thought that anyone else would be there.

She examined her father's face; His salt-and-pepper hair was lank and unkempt, as though he had tossed and turned for a while before coming downstairs. His skin was ashen, and dark purple bags hung under his eyes. His back was slightly hunched, and he leaned protectively over the table, his hands grasped around the cup.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, standing up and moving toward the fridge. Ema moved warily into the room, keeping her eyes on Artemis. He didn't seem the kind to try and force a touching father-daughter moment, but she didn't know him well enough to be sure. She sat at the opposite end of the table from Artemis' cup of tea, her eyes now fixed on her clasped hands in front of her.

He came back with a plate of leftovers from their dinner. Ema scarfed them down, burning her tongue in the process. She replaced her fork, realizing, to her dismay, that she would have to wait for the food to cool. Artemis sat across from her. He linked his fingers, rested his elbows upon the table and his head upon them. His eyes, blue and brown, stared her down.

Ema stared at the table. This is a _really_ comfortable father-daughter moment, she thought. A strand of red hair fell into her eyes, and she didn't try to brush it away.

Artemis, unaccustomed as he was to speaking with teenagers, cleared his throat. "Are you alright?" Ema raised an eyebrow.

"My friend is upstairs, nearly dead." A pink flush spread over Artemis' cheekbones.

Ema picked up the fork again, trying to swallow some of the food without it hitting her tongue. "Right," Artemis said, shaking her head and taking a quick sip of his tea. "Of course, you're not alright. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." Ema nodded, slowing her swallowing as she felt her throat blister. Finally, after a long moment of awkward silence, she gave up, and, her basic needs satisfied, she stood to leave and go to bed. Full, she now felt her exhaustion weighing down on her, and felt her eyes grow heavy. Standing, she turned to leave the room.

"Well, not that this wasn't fun, but I think that I'll go to bed now," Ema said, rolling her eyes, her natural teenage sarcasm blatantly evident.

With that, she turned and made her way back to her room. She was so tired that the trip seemed half as long as it had before she had eaten.

She had moved her things into the room next to the original one, as it was clogged with beeping and whirring machines. It was nearly the same in both style and furnishings; basically, as far as possible from Ema's taste, though she had to admit it wasn't as bad as anticipated; dark wood, red velvet, and gold leaf were the primal fixtures in the room. However, she didn't waste much time examining the decor, instead falling flat onto the bed, still dressed, and was passed out in seconds.

……..

The apartment was dark when Holly returned that evening. It always was, though, nowadays. No one really cared where she was or what she was doing, or even if she was still alive. Most of her friends had slowly distanced themselves from her after the divorce, and why wouldn't they? It was her fault it had ended, her fault that she had to go and be a little slut….

The silence was deafening as Holly prepared dinner, a simple meal of frozen veggies on leftover rice. She ate in the living room, though she didn't turn on the TV. The darkness of the room settled like a dark shroud around the tiny elf.

Suddenly, Holly noticed that she did not sit in perfect darkness, as she had thought; a tiny red light pulsated from the corner of the room.

The answering machine. Since friends and co-workers had stopped calling, so had she stopped checking for missed ones. She really didn't even know why she still had it, if not out of a half-hearted attempt to believe that the possibility of a call was real. She checked the call on the small screen, and realized that it had been recorded now for three days. She hit the play button, listening to the irritating pre-recorded message:

"One new message, 6:55 P.M." The machine beeped, then cut into the message, "Hello. Holly?" Holly's breath hitched; the voice was uncertain, but yet perfectly recognizable. "It's me…Artemis…I don't even know if I can still reach you here…It's been a while." he paused hesitantly. "I just wanted to let you know that…Emalline is going to be spending the Holidays with Melanie and me…if you wanted too drop by, I'm sure it would mean a lot to her to see her…mother. Bye." The line went dead quickly, and once more, the apartment was drowned in silence.

"No new messages," the machine said. Holly glared at it as she returned to her dinner, but sighed dejectedly. No even the answering machine was mocking her…

……..

Okay, now I must make a very brief apology, before my usual author's notes.

I'M SORRY!!!!!!!!!

I know that I said I'd have this up by the end of August, but I'm only four months past that deadline. I forgot! And fell victim to S.S.S.!!!! (do you even know what that is? It stands for Sucky Sequel Syndrome. Ha.)

Again, I am really and truly sorry, and I spent the past four hours finishing this, and on YULE, too, so you better be happy. XP

……..

Well, thanks for reading, and for those who have stuck by me during my creatively-dry spell, thank you. I hope for your reviews.

Again, really sorry that I forgot about this story, but I've kind of forgone writing altogether these past few months. I've written snippets of dialog in my ELA Writer's Journal, but other than that, nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

I hoped you liked Sarcastic Ema, Awkward Artemis, and Depressed Holly! (One big happy screwed-up family, eh?) Please review!

On a quick side-note, if you haven't read _Secretive_ or _Always a Secret_ Please do so before the next update, which will be, hopefully sooner than Litha, K!?

Your source for all things cynical and Sarcastic,

Realistic Fate


	5. Chap 5 In which our Villain is Revealed

Hey, Kittens! I cannot tell you how very sorry I am for not having this chapter up sooner than I have, I have had a major cutback in the amount of time I have to write fan fiction, as much as I love it. I've had some issues recently with my two writing pieces that I actually have a deadline for (No, they won't be posted here. Sorry, to those who care. But feel free to ask for a snippet, I could use some much -needed feedback on it), not to mention starting back at school, so I'll hope to have the next chappy up much sooner. But, as by the time _this one_ get's posted, I'll be reading Mockingjay, I doubt it.

Love you all! Remember, Reviews make for a happy author! (And a happy author makes for frequent updates!)

~RF

Chapter 4, In Which Our Villain Reveals Herself

Ema woke early the next morning, despite her late night, and the cold winter sunlight streaming through the open curtains made the events of the night before seem unreal. But a quick glance to the bed across the room confirmed her memories, and if she closed her eyes and listened closely enough, the steady throb of a heart monitor could be heard in the room next door.

She sat up slowly, her head mysteriously free from any of the pain she had expected this early (If her watch could be trusted, it was just past 7 A.M.). She changed out of her flannel pajamas into a dark gray sweater and black jeans, plaiting her fiery hair down her back. She listened at her door for any sign of life, and besides the irritable beeping of the monitors in the next room, heard nothing.

She poked her head into Diane's room, with the intention of checking her friend's vitals, but just the sight of Diane's face beneath the collection of tubes and wires stilled her breath in her lungs, and she left quickly. The image there was disturbing, and not what she wanted her first sight that morning to be.

With little too do, she wandered the building that she had begun to tour the day before; She was simply shocked at the sheer amount of priceless art that adorned the halls (Much of it had been reported stolen sometime within the last century. She tried not to dwell on that). The only sound was that of the heels of her boots clacking over the marble floors, and she found the sudden silence strangely comforting. For that reason, she was shocked, and rather annoyed, to realize that the closer she moved towards the western wing of the manor. The sound of harried voices with rough Irish accents carried well, and within a minuted, she found herself surrounded by people wearing a strange combination of suits and lab coats.

Ema knew immediately why they were there; Diane was a medical mystery, a healthy teenager who, within the course of _minutes, _had fallen deathly ill with some unknown ailment. The world's greatest scientific minds would be diligently working to find some answer, any reason that something so impossible could have happened.

That, she thought with disgust, and the fact that Artemis was a multi-billionaire.

As she followed the milling, chattering crowd, Ema couldn't help but notice the pitying stares that chased after her. They knew who she was, of course they did. They knew she was Artemis' daughter, knew she was Diane's friend. She could do pretty much anything she wanted right now, and no one would stop her.

Suddenly, she had an idea. A strange idea, and unlikely idea, an idea that had a very slim chance of being fruitful even if Fate _were_ on her side (Yeah, right), but an idea that would put to rest the tiny seed of doubt that was slowly sporing in her gut.

Now she walked with a new determinism, still following the group, but making her way to the front of it as to reach her destination faster. An odd combination of adrenalin, anxiety, and pure nerve was now pumping strongly though her veins, lifting her mind past her current situation and enabling her to see it from the cool, detached angle she was used to viewing her world from.

Most of the group drifted off on various duties before they reached the room that Ema was so anxious to see, and it was a good thing, too; She wasn't sure her current nerves could handle too many people looking over her shoulder to see what she was doing. They passed through the doors of the lab with no one really noticing anymore, and suddenly, Ema was in her element; Bright white and stainless steel so harsh it hurt the eyes, antibacterial smell, fluorescent lights were as comforting to the teenage genius as forest and coastline scenes were to others.

Ema worked quickly, finding what she needed with ease; Evidently, Artemis was as obsessive of neatness as she was (This was strange and uncomfortable, thinking of something they had in common, so Ema put it out of her mind without giving it a second thought.) A powerful, expensive microscope, a dropper, gloves, and a vial of Diane's blood, cold and dark, extracted the night before. She took care arranging the slide, following procedure so as not to screw up. She adjusted the power, watching for her worst fear to become visible.

Almost a year earlier, under the guise of working on an extra-credit science project, Ema had stayed late at school to use one of the many microscopes kept there in the lab. She had been curious about the nature of her magic for a while, and all that was needed was a single drop from a prick in her finger. The outcome had been brilliant; microscopic, brightly coloured blue cells, flashing and then burning to a gray spec as they tried to attach themselves to the glass plates of the slide.

What she saw now was very similar, albeit more sinister; None of the cells were their healthy blue, but a dark, dead gray, as they fastened themselves now, not to the glass, but to frightening black dots that seemed to kill them upon contact.

Ema had been right. Diane was very ill, yes, but with no human disease; it was, without a doubt, a fairy virus. Where she could have contracted something like this, Ema didn't know, but sinking feeling in her stomach gave away her fear.

Had she killed Diane?

E~A

The adrenalin sparked by the desire to know the truth had faded away to a distinct listlessness as Ema wandered back to her room. Her skin was cold and clammy, her hands shook, and her stomach roiled in furious guilt. She could be the only reason Diane was sick. Some human illness could have found it's way into her system, mutated to the point where a normal immune system could no longer fight it, and passed it to her very human friend.

Swallowing her rising nausea and forgoing her morose look in case Diane was awake, she forced herself into the room-turned-near-morgue. But it was for naught; her poor friend was still comatose. She wandered closer to the bed, startled by how very sick Diane really looked. Her face was coated in a sheen of cold sweat, her face the same ashen colour as the dead magic cells that plagued her body, backing up her natural system like so much mutated garbage. As a thick, heavy pain washed over her, Ema was forced to sit on the bedside, tears welling in her eyes as she pressed the back of her hand to Diane's face. The skin was cold.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her vice hoarse from crying. "I didn't mean for you to get sick. It's all my fault." Her head fell to her knees in shame, tears now flowing freely down her face.

The door opened, and Ema bolted up, now quite aware of how awful she looked, with puffy eyes and a runny nose, but still sad enough that she didn't much care. A small Asian lady in a white nurse's uniform came bustling in, checking Diane's vitals and marking them on a clipboard.

When she was done, she looked at Ema with a mingled look of sadness and pity, which was strangely comforting to the crying girl. She gave Ema a small, melancholy smile and, brushing a stray hair from her face, said reassuringly, "There, there, 'hon. It's alright to be sad." with that, she left, leaving Ema wishing her mother was there to comfort her in this Hell hole.

Looking once more at Diane, she noted the girl's laboured breath, her erratic heartbeat, and knew, without a doubt, that her friend didn't have much time left.

E~A

Ema's fever and pains continued to get worse throughout the night, making her sleep erratic, but, at the same time, making it difficult to follow what was real and what was a dream.

Sometime around midnight, she heard a few yells in the hallway outside her door, harried voices, then a sudden hush that made her certain that Diane was gone. She wanted to cry, but her body was too dehydrated at this point to even produce tears.

Someone came into her room, presumably to tell her of Diane's passing, but she must have been more ill than she had thought, as this someone yelled for the others to come, and soon her room was full of people, running, checking, yelling, talking, hurting her. Faces flashed around her, but she couldn't tell which were actually there; Artemis, Melanie, Diane, Holly, her family, the kind Asian nurse. all swirled around her, talking, yelling at her to stay awake, but it was too hard to focus, and they might as well had been speaking Greek for all she understood.

Sometimes, her fever broke long enough for her to see things as they were, to gain some sense of what was happening to her; they were taking blood, they were checking her heart rate, they were asking her questions. The questions were the hardest, and Ema found herself refusing to answer except to the kind nurse; To her, she would say anything. So the woman sat with her, sometimes with a very worried-looking Artemis, others with a very bored-looking Melanie. But mostly, she sat alone, holding Ema's burning hands with her cool, soothing fingers, and for a while, Ema could pretend that she was home again, her mother trying to help her feel better.

But, when the fever settled down on her hardest, she felt as though she would die; she was burning, tongue dry and swollen, not an ounce of fluid in her, but at the same time, she was cold, so very cold, a freezing sweat dripping down her face and neck like so much rain. Hallucinations, pictures, colours, faces, came and went, but mostly there was darkness.

Ema came to love the darkness. It was calm and soothing, where some of the hurt stopped. It was cool, but warm. But slowly, even the darkness became unbearable as the night wore on. A heavy weight, squeezing the air from her lungs, was settling on her chest. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see. It was then that Ema knew she was dying.

E~A

The pale-skinned fairy watched her newest victim with glee; The part-elf in front of her burning up as the magic in her system attached itself to her tissues, attacking her own body. A fairy's natural immune system was weak on it's own. Over the centuries, their bodies had come to rely entirely on the magic cells for it's defence, white cells almost completely replaced by the glowing blue ones. This was fine, and stronger than the natural one would have been, until a fairy's magic was depleted, or compromised, which was exactly what her home-grown virus was doing.

The system was a simple one, really; The normally powerful cells attached themselves to the virus, meaning to kill it, but unintentionally picking up the virus' DNA, killing themselves in the process and helping to breed the next, instantaneous generation of the virus. It then went on to destroy only the most vital organs, slowly enough that the victim was in intense pain, but slowly enough that the victim could be saved at any time by taking the antidote.

That is, as long as the antidote was taken with enough time before the heart was effected. That was her primary concern, because she didn't want the girl to die, not really. She wanted to scare her, let her see what she had the power to do, but she needed her too much to let her simply die.

She drew a small vial from her pocket, measuring out just enough to the the thick syrup to wake her up and keep her conscious long enough to get her on her side. Ema's mouth was open as he wrecked lungs tried to pull in every last breath she took. Three tiny drops rolled down her tongue. Three tiny drops were enough to keep her alive.

For now.

E~A

With no warning, a bright, warm flavour exploded on her tongue, burning her already frazzled senses, pulling her out of the darkness by force. She snarled against whatever was doing this, screaming, clawing, doing whatever she could to stay in the numbing silence. Then, suddenly, she could breath again. She was still paralysed from the waist down, but she now could breath, hear, see, taste, and, she found quickly, even wiggle her fingers. She uncurled her digits from the death grip she had held them in for so long, the small muscles aching.

But when this initial glee wore off, she looked around her, noticing first the multitude of machines attached to her via a collection of wires and pads, then the fact that every inch of her body was weak, achy, and drenched in sweat. And, finally, she noticed the small, kindly Asian woman sitting on a chair beside her bed, smiling sadistically.

But she was different now, wasn't she? Her dark eyes had elongated, becoming sharp and terrifying, and her face was angled, cut strangely. Pointed ears stood up from a mass of shiny black hair, finishing off the austere image.

"Good morning, Sunshine," she said, squeezing the hand she held. "Feeling any better?" Even if she hadn't spoken, reminding Ema of the countless tapes she'd seen of the mad fairy in the past, she would have known the face anywhere, and she cursed herself for not seeing it sooner.

The fairy who sat before her was Opal Koboi.

E~A

Ooooh...Cliffy. Whatever will happen next.

Whatever. I'm so predictable, you probably already know what's gonna happen!

Love you Kittens! R&R, and I will love you more!


End file.
